


Gene's Chair

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [5]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Parents, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Gay Parents, Gay policemen, Gene is a push over, M/M, Silly, needy Sam is needy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Sam may be just a bit jealous of Gene's recliner.





	Gene's Chair

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to write more domestic family drabbles so here's another one. 
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE CANON LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!

Sam plopped onto the settee and laid on his back, sighing heavily as his rested his arm over his eyes. “She’s finally asleep.”

“You run out of songs in your repertoire?” Gene asked, rocking his recliner back and forth as he stared at the television. An episode of _Sapphire & Steel _ was playing. He was hardly paying attention to what was going on with the plot of tonight’s show, but he didn’t mind looking at Joanna Lumley for a while.

“That girl won’t sleep until I sing a few to her,” Sam said.

“She’s used to it, Sammy,” Gene told him, “ever since she was a newborn you’ve been singing at her like a canary.” He stopped rocking and looked at him, grinning. “What was it tonight?”

“First one was ‘Earth Angel.’”

“Ah, that’s a good one.”

“Then it was ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,’” Sam continued as he sat up, “then some Nat King Cole.”

“Regular Top of the Pops, you are.”

Sam grunted as he crossed his left leg over his right knee, resting his ankle on it as he rubbed his heel. “My feet were killing me today.”

“I ‘spose you want me to give you a good rub,” Gene said.

“That would be delightful,” Sam replied.

“Answer’s no.”

“Then why did you offer?”

“I wasn’t offering. I just stated the obvious. Besides, you’ve got hands of your own.”

“I rub your shoulders,” Sam pointed out, “so the least you could do is return the favor.”

“I don’t remember that in our wedding vows,” Gene quipped.

Sam sighed and put his foot the floor again. “Come over here.”

Gene sneered. “No.”

“Please?”

“Why?” 

“You never sit on the settee with me,” Sam stated.

“'Cause I have a chair of me own,” Gene said.

“Guv…”

Gene turned to Sam once more and saw he was putting on a playful pout, making his brown eyes bigger. “God, you’re pathetic,” he laughed.

“Come here.”

“Put away the puppy eyes. I said no.”

Sam huffed. “Fine. I’ll come to you.” He stood and walked to the recliner.

“Don’t you dare,” Gene warned, but it was too late. Sam was climbing into the chair and making himself comfortable, sitting on Gene’s lap and propping his own legs on the arm of the recliner. “You needy bastard.”

Sam shifted his body to rest his head on Gene’s shoulder. “This is quite comfy,” he said. “No wonder you sit here every night.”

“Get off me,” Gene ordered.

“No,” Sam said haughtily. “I don’t want to.”

“Snooty little git.”

“I know you’re enjoying this,” he said. Gene sighed and brought his arm around Sam’s waist. “Am I wrong?”

“Shut up,” Gene whispered. He kissed Sam’s forehead and he heard a content moan.

The soft thumping of a six-year-old’s footsteps made their way down the stairs and Ruthie looked at them. “Daddy, what are you doing?” she asked, giggling.

“I’m rocking him to sleep, love,” Gene said.

He was being sarcastic but Ruthie gasped. “You never rock _me_ anymore!”

“Come up here, then,” Sam said. “There’s room!”

“Mouse, you stay where you are,” Gene told her, but it was too late again. She climbed over an arm of the recliner and Sam moved his legs so that she could sit on Gene’s other side. “Unbelievable.”

“Okay, Papa,” Ruthie said, “rock us, please.”

“I can’t,” he replied.

“You can,” Sam said.

“There’s too many people in this chair.”

“Please, Papa.”

“Yeah, please, Papa,” Sam giggled.

Gene grunted as he reached down over the side of the recliner and pulled back the lever. Ruthie squeaked as the footrest popped out and Gene leaned the chair all the way flat.

“This isn’t rocking,” Sam protested.

“I’m trying to distribute our weight so my chair doesn’t break,” Gene declared.

Sam nuzzled into Gene’s neck while Ruthie rested against his chest. They all sighed in unison and laid in the recliner quietly.

Ten minutes later, as Sam began to doze off, Gene whispered, “I think we’re stuck.”

Sam opened his eyes. “How do you reckon?”

“Ruthie’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her.”

“Oh, shit,” Sam said.

“This is your fault, you know.”

“Guess you should have rubbed my feet, then.”


End file.
